The Ties That Bind
by Jennatar
Summary: There is an old Shin'a'in proverb - or curse - that reads, "May your life be eventful."
1. Author's Note

**The Ties That Bind**

by Jennatar  
lilacflower@rocketmail.com  
The Velgarth Resource: jennatar.cjb.net

Disclaimer

    The world of Velgarth (including names, characters, and customs) is the creation of Mercedes Lackey, and no infringement on her rights is intended. The plot and characters of this story where made for entertainment purposes only, and are completely non-profit. Any resemblances between characters in this story and people in real life is strictly coincidental. 

About

    This story takes place approximately 400 years after the last of Misty's books (_Owlknight_). The plot and original characters belong to me; this story should only appear on www.fanfiction.net and jennatar.cjb.net, where it is hosted. A new chapter should be added at least once every two weeks.   
  
    For anyone who remembers my old story _The Ties That Bleed_, I've decided to abort writing that one in favor of this prelude. _Bleed_ was just a bit too ambitious a story to start with; I'd rather develop my writing abilities with a shorter plot that I've thoroughly planned out. Be sure to check out my website for information on my stories, as well as a resource for writing fan fiction in the world of Velgarth. 

I love getting reviews! =)


	2. Prologue

**The Ties That Bind**  
Prologue

    Jen'atar shena Jor'ethan, shaman of the Clan of the wolf, was exhausted. Keeping a blood-path Adept from using his Gift was _not_ a task her power - or her Goddess's power - was suited to. Being forced to do exactly that for a week, right until their k'Leshya allies arrived, had wrung out her mind and left her body weaker than a yearling's. As is, Jor'ethan was very lucky that their cousins had arrived - another few hours, and not even the Goddess's personal blessing would have kept her shield from failing.   
  
    _Too bad we can't just kill that piece of _sheka, she thought groggily, not _quite_ crawling into her tent. How the man had gotten this far into the Dhorisha Plains was something they all needed to know, and to prevent from ever happening again. The dark Adept had been caught halfway to the ruins; even thinking of what he could have done with the remaining artifacts there sent chills up her spine. Nearly four hundred years ago some of the artifacts in the ruins had been used, and their use had generated enough power to cancel out the second set of Mage Storms. The activation of another artifact could very well bring on a third set - not that she would allow it, not while a heart still beat in her weary body.   
  
    Trying to ignore creaking bones, Jen'atar groaned and lowered herself slowly onto a pile of multi-hued cushions. If the Goddess had any mercy, the rest of the Clan would let her sleep for a week...   
  
    Just as her eyes fluttered closed, _someone_ tentatively cleared their throat; silently cursing her avocation, fate, _and_ her conniving Goddess, Jen'atar peeled back her eyelids and _stared_ at the intruder. When the intruder didn't take the hint, the shaman heaved a resigned sigh and levered herself into a sitting position, beckoning the woman closer with a half-hearted gesture.   
  
    The figure resolved itself into Linala, a _very_ young woman indeed. Quickly sitting across from her, Linala glanced around nervously, all the while clutching a pendent in her hand. After a moment the woman visibly gathered herself, looking into the shaman's eyes with a reluctance that was all to plain -   
  
    - and revealed all to clearly why she'd come. Even a novice would have been able to sense the inner struggle Linala was going through, would have known - from her pinched expression and haunted eyes - that she needed help _now_. Kicking her fogged mind awake, Jen'atar leaned forward and grasped the girl's hand, trying to appear strong and all-knowing.   
  
    _A real feat_, whispered an inconsequential part of her mind, _when I haven't had any true rest in a week._   
  
    Linala visibly calmed, toying with her pendant as she half-whispered, "I need help, shaman; I - I just don't know what to do -" Breaking off, she stared blanking at the tent wall for a moment before speaking again, each word coming slowly - as if drawn against her will. "I'm - in love. Beyond love; I can't live without him! But - but it can never be." The hand clutching the pendent had turned white, as white as her face had become. In a trembling voice, she continued, "Tell me that it'll be alright, tell me that we can be together - forever -"   
  
    Jen'atar quickly leaned forward and hugged the sobbing girl. Was it a lifebond that was causing so much trouble - and why could they never be together? The Shin'a'in were very open-minded about pairings, and true love had never been stopped by Clan boundaries before. No; it was more likely that she'd fallen for an outClansman, and didn't realize that the man in question would be eligible to join Jor'ethan.   
  
    "Child," she murmured soothingly, exercising her elderly right to call almost _anyone_ a child, "Linala, whomever he is, Jor'ethan would accept him-"   
  
    The girl was already shaking her head, sending fine tendrils of black hair across her face. Pulling back, Linala murmured resentfully, "No - he would _never_ be accepted here!" An unidentifiable, disturbing glint had entered the girl's eyes, complimenting an expression that was so mixed it might well have been a mask.   
  
    Blinking leaden eyes several times, the shaman sternly told her mind to start working. An outClansman who the Clans would never accept - a cripple, perhaps? Maybe someone who disliked horses. No matter; Linala seemed dead certain that he wouldn't, so it'd be best to assume she was right. Now, in that case, the only solution would be for Linala to leave the Clans and join her beloved wherever he lived.   
  
    _If she's _that_ in love_, Jen'atar thought wryly. _Leaving the Clans is akin to chopping ones arm off._   
  
    "Linala," she said gently, wishing she could read the expression on the woman's face, "to be with him, you may have to pay a price." At her completely blank, lost expression, Jen'atar hurriedly continued. "Sometimes, even love has a price; the question is whether or not you are willing to pay it."   
  
    The girl's blank look didn't change an inch; if anything, she looked even more confused. Groaning mentally, the shaman searched her tired brain for an appropriate example - and came up with a lengthy one. Resigning herself to another sleepless night, Jen'atar summoned the words to the tale, lifting the girl's chin to stare directly into her eyes, "Listen to this story, Linala, and take the lesson to heart." The girl nodded once, a flicker of comprehension in her eyes as she settled more comfortably into her cushion.   
  
    Jen'atar copied her, trying to settle her old bones into a position that wouldn't become overly painful in a few hours. Donning her best story-telling mask, the shaman began in the serious tone that such stories deserved, "Here is a tale; hear it with your heart, for it is as true as the Hand of the Star-Eyed and as sure. In the time when my father roamed the Plains, not so very long ago, the Firefalcon Clan traveled to the city of Kata'shin'a'in. It was in late autumn, near the time when the Clans leave the city; the group of Clansmen was running late, and would have a only a week or two before winter drove them out. Among the group were two siblings, Jia'drin and Seanna, who were to help their parents in the city. Their parents, however, had ridden out earlier, bargaining the lonely trip against a few extra days at Kata'shin'a'in..."   
  
    The feverish glint hadn't left Linala's eyes, but at least she was listening. Hopefully the tale would give the girl something to think about, would prevent her from doing anything drastic until the situation could be dealt with - and maybe the story would show the girl a price she wasn't willing to pay. 

lilacflower@rocketmail.com .|. jennatar.cjb.net .|. Reviews Welcome =)


	3. Ch. 1: Kata'shin'a'in

**The Ties That Bind**  
Ch. 1: Kata'shin'a'in

    "Kata'shin'a'in!" Seanna crowed triumphantly, reigning in her roan mare atop the rise. A feeble gust of wind stirred her short-cropped hair as she half-turned the horse, grinning at her older brother, "At the pace we've been going, I was starting to doubt we'd ever get here!"   
  
    Jia'drin sighed mentally, lamenting the eternal exuberance of the eighteen year old. Three extra years of experience had taught him that after waking before dawn, herding a few dozen horses all day, and traveling in steadily-dropping temperatures, one _ought_ to be a bit tired. So it was that he continued his sedate pace up the hill and crested the rise with hardly a glance at the city below, leaving his sister to scramble after him.   
  
    A glance, of course, hardly did Kata'shin'a'in any justice. The city was remarkable in the fact that it was hardly a city; almost every single person there lived in a brightly colored tent, all the "homes" combining to create a chaotic mix of colors. The sometimes-gaudy mixture of hues was enough to blind the unwary, but it perfectly suited a Shin'a'in's sense of style. Visiting caravans, hailing from Iftel to the exotic Vales (and everywhere in between), bore the hardship with amazing grace.   
  
    Their own "caravan" was made up of a dozen members of For'a'hier, the Firefalcon Clan. The entire clan had already been to Kata'shin'a'in, so everyone in the return group was out for extra profits, or because they hadn't sold all their goods the first time around. The twelve of them would only have a week or so before winter drove them out of the city, but a week ought to be more than enough to finish up business.   
  
    Jia'drin let his eyes roam over the city as they made their final approach, searching for his parent's tell-tale string of horses. This year For'a'hier had produced an alarming number of white steeds, and his parents had left early in order to sell theirs before the group's arrival flooded the market. Verari and Sal'ara had ever been practical; they'd have arrived three days ago, and might already have sold the entire string.   
  
    Seanna rode up next to him, her blue eyes dancing with some secret merriment. "Heyla, Jia'drin! D'you know what? Kav'ata says we're going to camp over there." Raising her hand, his sister gestured at fully half of the city, oblivious to the fact that she wasn't being helpful in the slightest. More than a little annoyed at her exuberance, Jia'drin merely grunted.   
  
    Casting a rumpled glace his way, she promptly continued, "You know, both k'Treva and k'Leshya are here."   
  
    _That_ he did already knew, and quite thoroughly looked forward to. It wasn't every day that one could browse through the beautiful items his cousins created, and a rare occasion indeed that one could afford them.   
  
    Seanna continued to regard him, then glanced back at the rest of the group as a sly smile stole across her features, "Uivatha is _still_ making moon-eyes your back." Fidgeting in her saddle, she glared at him as the silence stretched, then finally burst out, "Don't you _ever_ talk?"   
  
    That, naturally, was exactly what he'd been waiting for. Bestowing a dry smile on her, he absently quoted the old adage, "He who is wisest, says least." Then, laughing, he signaled his mount to a canter, riding into Kata'shin'a'in with Seanna's good-natured curses at his back.   
  
    Upon entering the city, Jia'drin was forced to reign in his mount to a steady walk; even this late in the season, the city was crowded with brightly-garbed Clansmen, travelers who wore their brightest to fit in, and traders who tried to mimic the Clansmen without much success. Indeed, one could hardly pass a street without seeing a foreign salesman, wearing a poorly-made beaded tunic, loudly proclaiming his wares in Shin'a'in. The garbled, mispronounced, and often hysterically-incorrect utterings had true Shin'a'in doubled over with laughter; the one nearest him, for example, was trying to sell his myriad of lace products as "large, ripe, and fragrant".   
  
    A flicker of movement on the edge of his vision caused him to glance up just as an enormous bird plunged from the sky, her wings close about her frame as she plummeted. Even as a few passersby cried out and dashed for cover, the gigantic vorcel-hawk snapped out her wings and hovered a few feet above the stunned crowd. Then, as a few nervous titters and relieved laughs broke out among the crowd, the bird called a harsh greeting and neatly perched on a nearby hawker's stall.   
  
    The trader was obviously a new addition to Kata'shin'a'in; he cowered back and stared at the bird in barely-suppressed terror. Most everyone who had stayed a week through a busy season would know of the Tale'edras birds, as well as the extremely strict laws against harming them. The "laws" weren't actually written anywhere, but his cousins enforced the rules religiously. Just last season, in fact, a group of fur traders had taken a shot at what they had thought was a normal falcon; after an extensive search, their bodies had finally been found a half league from the city. In Kata'shin'a'in it was safest not to shoot at anything that flew.   
  
    Nodding casually at the frightened man, Jia'drin pulled his horse beside the stall and double-checked the bird's distinctive markings, "Kina, what've you got for me?" The vorcel-hawk was bonded to a friend of his, Liferain k'Treva. Over the past few years the two of them had gotten into no small amount of mischief when they happened to meet in the city, and it was his high regard for her that kept him from settling down and starting a family. When compared to Liferain, Uivatha - and almost every other woman in his clan - faded to naught.   
  
    Kina fluffed out her feathers and uttered a short trill, raising her right talon to show the rolled message attached to it. Casting a grin at the pale trader, he leaned from his horse and scratched the hawk's neck, more than slightly amused at how the man suddenly bolted. When he reached for the message, however, the hawk butted his hand away and sidled back.   
  
    Jia'drin groaned mentally at the bird's odd actions. Either the message wasn't for him - which was fairly plausible, considering he just arrived - or the Kina wanted to play a game of catch-the-hawk. The small road wasn't the slightest suited to the game, though, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to think he was manhandling a Tale'edras bird. Deciding to try to wheedle the message out of the bird, he pointed his finger at her, assumed a stern expression, and looked into Kina's golden eyes -   
  
    - and reeled, his mind suddenly awash with two simple words, and a dozen images that went with them, _:You follow.:_ Then, while he was shocked into immobility, the hawk launched herself from the stall and took off, circling around him twice before heading off to the left.   
  
    His face still pale with shock, Jia'drin obediently urged his horse to follow the bird, his mind trying to sort out what had just happened. He wasn't hallucinating, that was a certainty; any Clansmen old enough to talk knew that Tale'edras birds could "speak" to their bondmate. But, didn't that just apply to their bondmate? He wasn't so sure, and it certainly didn't seem so. But if bondbirds could talk into anyone's head, why hadn't Kina spoken to him before? He'd known Liferain for quite some time, and any messages had always been relayed on paper...   
  
    Checking to make sure his horse was still following the hovering bird, Jia'drin shrugged off the questions. Liferain would be able to answer them all, no doubt; just one more reason for wanting to see her. Besides, he didn't have to take his turn at his clan's stall until tomorrow morning, leaving him plenty of time to visit the beautiful Healer, and to spend the night if the situation warranted it.   
  
    _Steady_, Jia'drin whispered to himself, _it's been nearly a year this time_. _How_ someone as bright, beautiful, and talented as Liferain had remained unpaired this long astounded him. It was perfectly plausible that she had found someone recently, and their relationship would have to revert to casual friends. If that were the case, he'd probably have to settle down with one of the women in For'a'hier before his parents - and half the rest of the clan - became too adamantly opposed to him being a bachelor.   
  
    Keeping his eyes on the bird, and trusting his horse to clear a path, Jia'drin recognized where his thoughts were taking him. Did he really want to marry Liferain? Adding up all the times he'd seen her, he probably had only spent a single season with her. Even worse, would she want him? He was good with a sword, better than most on a horse, but absolutely nothing special; _she_ was a powerful Healer, of the body and mind, and the only one k'Treva had. Even if they did get married, _he_ would wind up going to live in k'Treva.   
  
    _Could I actually leave the Plains? Fah!_ he chided himself, _she's probably married, hasn't shown any inclination toward marrying you, and will be gone in a week; let's not worry about what won't happen._   
  
    Shrugging off his disturbing thoughts, Jia'drin took in the sights of the inner city. Some time ago the bright tents had given way to the buildings - permanent shops, inns, and houses of those who lived through all the seasons at Kata'shin'a'in. If anything, the streets here were more crowded than those around the tents, and there were more travelers than Shin'a'in. Kina was still circling lazily in the sky, moving vaguely to his right now; keeping his eyes on the bird, Jia'drin nudged his mount onto the proper path.   
  
    A few moments later he was jolted forward in his saddle as his horse hit something; tearing his eyes from the sky, Jia'drin looked down just in time to see an enraged mountain of a man picking himself off the ground, his bloodshot eyes and red face testimony to the tavern he had just walked out of. More disconcerting than the man's size was that three others had lined up next to him - and all of them sported chainmail and swords. None of them looked particularity rational.   
  
    His horse had shied backward from the impact, but now stood firm. It was much more likely that the men - more than a little drunk - had stumbled into him, rather than the other way around; it was also extremely unlikely that he'd be able to talk his way out of a fight. Let no one say, however, that he hadn't given the men a proper warning. Clasping his hand around the hilt of his sword - just in case - he raised his voice and spoke to them in trade tongue, "Gentlemen -"   
  
    Perhaps it was the misapplication of the title, or maybe the men were too gone to recognize speech, but the leader suddenly drew his sword and roared, charging at the Shin'a'in with his friends close behind.   
  
    At that point negotiations became mute. Drawing his sword and long dagger, Jia'drin signaled his mount with a word; the brown beast reared and came down flat on the leader's chest, crushing bone and chainmail with equal indifference. One of the followers, shocked at the sudden demise of his leader, stopped his charge a little too close to the irritated Shin'a'in. Leaning dangerously out of his saddle, Jia'drin swatted the man's sword aside and ran him through.   
  
    Pulling his sword out of the body, Jia'drin barely had time to right himself and block the third man's furious attack. The man pulled back, howling, as the Shin'a'in thrust his dagger into the man's arm, twisting as he withdrew to inflict the most damage. As the third man turned and ran, he signaled his horse back, searching for the fourth idiot crazy enough to attack a Clansman in their own city.   
  
    A blood-curdling, triumphant shriek erupted from Kina's beak as she launched off from the fourth man's still body, the back of whose neck looked mauled and twisted. A final short scream jerked his attention to the left, where an unnamed Clanswoman had neatly beheaded the wounded man.   
  
    A heavy silence hung in the air as the woman stepped forward, fixing her gaze on the tavern's customers, who'd all emerged in some state of drunkenness to witness the fight. Grounding her blade next to the man's staring head, she calmly glanced at the foreigners and grated in trading tongue, "To attack a Clansman in Kata'shin'a'in is death." She smiled chillingly as the silence stretched, "May your business be profitable, gentlemen, and may you live longer than these." Dropping down, she cleaned her sword on one of the dead man's tunics, nodded at Jia'drin, and left.   
  
    A hawk's cry, still overlaid with tones of bloodlust, pulled his eyes from the dramatic scene. Kina circled him once before shooting off, oblivious to the fact that he was now responsible for cleaning up four bodies, his weapons, and his horse. Scowling at the retreating bird, he dismounted easily and - on impulse - decided to play into the scene the Clanswoman had created. Skewering the dangling head on his sword, he casually raised it, innocently asking the pale bystanders, "Where should I put this?" 

lilacflower@rocketmail.com .|. jennatar.cjb.net .|. Reviews Welcome =)


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